


Forgive me

by CassandraAuditore



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angry Kissing, Jaskier is hurt and bitter, Jaskier is my boi and i will protect him at all cost, M/M, Oneshot, Post SE01EP06, Shameless Smut, Unresolved Tention, cursing, geralt is a stubborn idiot, handjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:54:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22361419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CassandraAuditore/pseuds/CassandraAuditore
Summary: "Don't you dare talk to me like that! You know, I would've done anything for you, but you sent me away like a mangy dog!""Jaskier.""Ohh, no. Nonono, you're listening to me now! I've never asked much of you. But you ... You have no idea what I'm been through. But I have built myself a new, respectable life now! And you won't ruin that again you miserable prick! ""Jaskier!"---------------------------------------Almost a year had passed since the dragon hunt. Geralt had returned to his old routine slaying monsters and earning some coin. One evening the witcher ended up in Velen and destiny decided for him to run into an old acquaintance. With unresolved tension and anger still in the air both Geralt and Jaskier had imagined their reunion a little different…
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 18
Kudos: 327





	Forgive me

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Прости меня](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22392421) by [DoloresClaiborne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoloresClaiborne/pseuds/DoloresClaiborne)



> Disclaimers: Well, what can I tell you… I'm head over heels in love with this ship and my boi Jaskier. I haven't read the books yet, it's all based on the Netflix adaptation. English is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes in advance.  
> If you're interested you can find the original German version of this story on my dashboard :)

Forgive me  
  


"Velen just remains a monster infested shit hole," Geralt murmured, looking grimly at the local notice board. The setting sun cast long shadows on the old wooden panel on which one request was nailed next to the other. Werewolves, ghouls, drowners, the swampland was a paradise for these creatures. The witcher stepped closer, the mud smacking under his heavy boots, and tore off the requests that he could clearly identify as monster attacks. And they were numerous.

"Come on, Roach." He stuffed the papers into his pockets as he reached for the reins of the fox-colored mare. She puffed her nostrils and nudged at him questioningly. "No, not today, girl. Today we're just going to eat and find a dry place to sleep." As if the horse understood, she bobbed her head, the bridle clanked softly and Geralt couldn't help smiling. He had missed it. Being on the road, killing monsters and earning some coin for the next trip. The simple life of a witcher, away from war, politicians and magicians. Especially from magicians.

Geralt led Roach back to the tavern they had seen when they arrived in the small village. The last rays of sunshine warmed his broad back, but the night was already stretching out her fingers and the witcher hoped that there were still some free guest rooms.

The tavern was visible from afar. Bright lighted windows promised a warm meal, a cool ale and, at best, even a clean bed. Geralt led his mare to the small shelter in front of the inn, two black horses were already dozing. With practiced fingers he fastened the reins and Roach immediately dunked her head into the fresh hay. The witcher loosened the saddlebags, threw them over his shoulders and stroked over her soft fur.

"Take care and don't do anything stupid," he whispered and the mare snorted softly, as if she wanted to answer: _The same applies to you._ An amused grin settled on Geralt's otherwise hard facial features, but it vanished when he stood in front of the taverns door. Velen was not necessarily known for its hospitality to witchers. A mixtures of voices and laughter rang into his ears as he pushed the heavy wooden door open. Geralt entered the taproom and immediately the conversations fell silent, he felt the piercing looks and sour mines of the locals.

_Let's get it over with_ , he thought with a sigh, and headed straight for the counter. The innkeeper, a tall man with little hair and a lot of beard eyed him suspiciously.

"Beer. And something to eat," Geralt growled and casually looked around, some guests shared whispered words, others had their hands on their sword.

"Must see if we have some leftover," snarled the innkeeper, obviously not very pleased with the new guest.

"Hmm," Geralt grumbled, dropping a small leather pouch onto the worn counter. The coins jingled as brightly as the sudden glow in the innkeeper's eyes.

"Woman, bring this man something to drink and a decent portion."

"Thank you. Do you still have a free room for the night?"

"Yes. Second room to the left." He put a rusty key on the counter while Geralt took out some silver coins from the leather pouch.

"You are a witcher, aren't you? Are you here to take on these werewolves?" Asked the aged innkeeper's wife shyly and handed him a mug of freshly tapped ale.

"Hmm," Geralt nodded, took the jug and headed for a lonely table in the corner.

___________________ 

They were wrong. Geralt read the description of the beast again. It wasn't just a simple werewolf that haunted the little village. If the words from the request were true, it was an Ulfhedinn, a sub-form of the werewolf, but much tougher and more dangerous than its conspecifics.

"Hmm," Geralt murmured disapprovingly and put the parchment on the table in front of the others. They were usually found in Skellige, but in this damn swamp nothing surprised him anymore. And since the next full moon was only a few nights away, he should take care of this beast as soon as possible. He would drink his ale and then go to rest to be fit for the upcoming fight.

As he put the mug on his lips, the inn door opened and a small group of travelers entered. The taproom was now well filled and the locals no longer paid any attention to the witcher. They now devoted their attention to the newcomers. They were clearly not from the area. Two men in heavy armor entered first, followed by a slender woman whose fir-green dress made of fine velvet didn’t fit into the picture of this ordinary tavern at all. Her brunette hair was tied into an artful knot and fastened with a gold-plated clip. A young man came in last. He was wearing tight-fitting trousers made of azure linen, a matching doublet and – Geralt nearly choked on his beer when he recognized him. Shit.

The four took a seat at an empty table and Geralt unavoidably had to pass them if he wanted to enter his room.

"Fuck," he swore and watched the innkeeper almost drop a mug of beer in the face of nervousness due to the noble visitors, his wife hurried to the table with meat, bread and fruits. The four guests seemed to be having a great time, the woman giggled when the young man whispered something in her ear and then unpacked a lute.

Geralt's grip on the jug tightened, he would recognize this lute everywhere, it was their first adventure together, when the Elven King Filavandrel gave it to Jaskier. And just like back then, the bard was now starting a happy song, the people were rocking their feet in amusement and his female companions clapped to the beat. But the witcher didn't hear him. He only heard his own hateful words over and over in his head: _"If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands!"_

Almost a year had passed since. And yes, he wasn't proud of what he had said. But he had never asked for the bard's company! Geralt was a witcher, a mutant who avoided people and whom people avoided. Jaskier knew what he was getting into! And he seemed to be enjoying himself with his new companionship quite a lot. He obviously didn't need him anymore.

The witcher took the last sip of beer, which was much too warm and stale now, and then stowed the papers in his bag. Maybe he could maneuver past them unseen. There was a little niche near the taprooms counter. With a little luck, he could –

"Please forgive me, but you're a witcher, am I right?" Came a soft, feminine voice from the side and Geralt looked up. He was so captured in his own thoughts that he hadn't noticed the woman's approach. How could he be so careless? Only that damn bard was to blame!

"Yes," he grumbled, looking straight into a curious pair of auburn eyes, the green velvet of her dress in a pleasant contrast. She was pretty, certainly not yet thirty years old.

"I knew it! Tell me, have we met anywhere before?"

"Not that I’m aware of. Sorry." Geralt bowed his head a little, he was in contact with young, pretty aristocratic women quite sometimes, something that his job entailed, but he would surely remember her.

"You seem so familiar to me. _Snow-white hair, amber-colored eyes, as strong as ten men._ I felt as if I - No, wait, the medallion! Of course, you are Geralt of Rivia, the White Wolf! My bard told me all about your adventures!"

"Your bard, hmm?"

"Yes, he has traveled widely. But I never thought I would see you, the Butcher of Blaviken, here."

"And who am I having the pleasure with?"

"Oh, please forgive my manners." Without being asked, she gallantly sat on the empty chair across the table and said in a muffled voice: "I am Gabriella, Countess de Stael."

"Hmm. And what brings a countess like you to Velen?" The witcher folded his arms over his chest. His plans to retire unseen were now void.

"We are in transit to Oxenfurt, visiting my niece. I have heard the horrible tales of the monsters that are said to live in the swamps. Are the stories true? Is that why you are here?"

"Yes. It is my job as a witcher to hunt and kill those creatures to keep the public safe."

"Well my dear Geralt, then you have done a marvelous service. So far our trip has been uneventful, I would say almost boring! But now," she leaned over the table, her voice took on a sweetly thick tone and in her eyes laid a treacherous sparkle, "it seems like it could get exciting at last. I haven't met any of your kind before, but I've heard rumors about you. Tell me, Geralt, is it true that witchers are hung like a-"

"Beer!" The jug hit on the table so hard that half of it was spilled, and the countess winced, startled. "There is a clear lack of beer at this table!"

"Jaskier," Geralt growled, slowly raising his head.

The brown hair was disheveled as always, but he was much paler and thinner than a year ago, the high cheekbones protruding from the fair skin. And his light blue eyes, otherwise full of life and mischief, now looked empty and freezing cold.

"Geralt."

"Ah, we just talked about you!" The countess had recovered from her shock and didn’t seem to notice the tension in the air. "Sit down with us! You never told me that your witcher friend was so handsome."

She winked at Geralt, who felt like a necrophage was rummaging through his gut.

"We are not friends. He made it more than clear that my presence is not wanted," hissed Jaskier between gritted teeth.

"Oh, did you two had a fight? Is that why you stopped playing the old songs?" She asked nonchalantly.

"You can call it that, yes. Come on, Countess. Not that people think wrongly about you when you are seen in _such_ company." Every word was like poison and neither of them wanted to give in to the other's stare.

"Very well," she sighed theatrically into the thick air and rose, "I don't want to cause further discord. It was a pleasure to meet you, Geralt von Rivia. So that our paths meet again another time." Her words were full of promise, but she was too close to the bard, their hands almost touched. Geralt only managed a stoic nod. They had already turned around and Jaskier's hand went to her lower back as they return to their table. And when she raised her head to smile at him brightly, the noise in Geralt's head turned into a roaring hurricane.

"JASKIER!", e barked, all eyes immediately turning to him, the chattering fell dead silent. Shit, he had to say something, do something. "Thanks for the beer."

\-----------------------------------

It was said that witchers didn’t feel emotions due to their mutations. There was also a rumor that poisons and alcohol had no effect on them. However, if you had seen Geralt von Rivia staggering out of the tavern that night, you would have realized that all this talk was bullshit.

"Fuck!" Geralt cursed when he stumbled over an old bucket, he was just catching himself on the barn wall. How did it escalate like this? Yes, he had noticed the innkeeper's wife's disapproving look. And yes, he hadn't missed the fact that she really hesitated to hand him the two bottles of nilfgaardian vodka. But he had paid and what he did in the room he also paid for was none of her concern. However all the drinks took their toll and so he headed outside to relieve himself. It didn't help that his head felt like it was spinning on his own axis. But he accomplished the task and made his way back a few minutes later. And almost tripped over the bucket again. This time he vented his anger and kicked it hard. It flew a few feet through the cool air, only to hit a man's leg, he had also followed nature's call and was now gasping in pain.

"Bloody hell, can't a man just piss in peace here?" Jaskier looked up and immediately recognized the white hair. "Oh, isn't this brilliant," he groaned annoyed and out of the corner of his eye he saw the witcher approaching.

"Wha was that all ' bout?" Geralt's gruff voice cut through the night, the words clouded with alcohol. Why did the bard run into him all the time? Why hadn't he just stayed in Kaer Morhen? And why was he shaken to the core just by Jaskiers sight?

"I could ask you the bloody same!" He buttoned his pants and turned to his former friend. "Is this a new witchery thing, to stalk at people piss-"

"You know ' xactly wha I mean!" With wobbly strides Geralt came closer, the bard crossed his arms over his chest. The witcher didn't know what made him angrier. His self-loathing or the coldness in Jaskier's eyes.

"Are you drunk?"

"None of ya damn business," he growled dangerously. "Wha was the purpose of ya childish little scene?"

"Scene? I just didn't want my _companion_ to get on your precious nerves. I know how sensitive you are when someone disturbs your beloved _silence_." The otherwise lovely singing voice was cruel. Geralt had never heard such a tone from him on all of their journeys together. And the bard used to talk a lot. In fact he never shut up. "I’ve heard you, Geralt. You didn't want my company from the start. I got it! So what's your godforsaken problem?"

"You -" Geralt snarled, grabbed Jaskier by the arm and pressed him roughly against the barn wall, the old planks creaked in protest. "You and this ... Countess! Wha's it all 'bout?"

"I work for her, Geralt. She pays me good coin! And she's _nice_ to me, not like you know anything about that," he spat at him, not intimidated by the yellow glowing eyes. "And I even have my own fucking horse!"

"Oh really? She _pays_ ya? For ya _service_ , huh? Jaskier, I've never thought you are a whore just li-"

\- SMACK –

The bard trembled with anger, his palm burned hot and even in the moonlight he could see the reddish mark on Geralt's face. He knew that he would probably regret it bitterly, but he had enough of the witcher always trampling on him!

"Don't you dare talk to me like that! You know, I would've done anything for you, but you sent me away like a mangy dog!"

"Jaskier."

"Ohh, no. Nonono, you're listening to _me_ now! I've never asked much of you. But you ... You have no idea what I'm been through. But I have built myself a new, respectable life now! And you won't ruin that again you miserable prick! "

"Jaskier!"

"I didn't even get a shitty apology from you to this day! You, the great _Geralt of Rivia_! The _White Wolf_! The _Protector of the Simple Folk_! What a bloody joke! I spit on-"

"Jaskier!" Faster than he could react, the witcher closed the last gap between them and pressed the bard rough against the barn that the air escaped his lungs. "Shut your damn mouth at last!" Geralt's face was only a finger's width from his, he was breathing heavy and Jaskier could smell the vodka, mixed with Geralt's own smell of pine needles and leather, the air around them was buzzing.

"Oh really, Geralt? Force me bec-!" Jaskier fell dead silent as a couple of lips greedily pressed on his. Oh that _bastard_ of a witcher! He returned the kiss hard, bit painfully into Geralt’s the lower lip, which made him gasp while he pinned the younger man against the wall, pressing his growing erection against his hip.

"Fuck," he swore as Jaskier roughly tugged on his white hair and used the moment to slide his tongue between his wet lips. Geralt received him hungrily and a dark growl escaped his throat as he tasted sweet wine and fruits. Neither of them gave the other one the upper hand, they waged a war that neither could win. Or wanted to win. Finally, Geralt withdraw himself from the hot, wet kiss, breathing heavily, only to sink his teeth at the base of his slim neck without warning. Jaskier groaned in surprise, the sweet pain sent gorgeous shocks through his spine straight down to his groin and he wrapped a leg around him, his erection painfully pressed against the hard length of the witcher.

Geralt took another bite and elicited the most delightful tones from the bard, then kissed the redded spots softly. Everyone would be able see the unmistakable marks in the morning. Satisfied with his work he looked up.

Even in the moonlight Jaskier’s cheeks had a rosy sheen, his lips were red and swollen, his hair wildly disheveled. And finally, passion was glowing again in the ice-blue eyes. Geralt wanted to memorize this sight forever.

"Shit," he just whispered as they greedily closed their lips again. The silence of the night was only broken by their panting and the rustling of her clothes, desperately in search for friction. Finally, Jaskier managed to open the buttons of the leather pants with skillful fingers and without hesitation embraced Geralt's hot, throbbing cocks. The witcher groaned as Jaskier ran his thumb across his tip and spread the milky liquid all down to his shaft. "Ahh fuck."

He impatiently opened the bard's trousers, pushed it down to his knees and closed his fingers around Jaskier's cheeks. He noticed with awe how perfectly the young man's buttocks filled his hands. Geralt pulled him closer, skin met skin and they both groaned as Jaskier took both erections in his hand.

"Gods, Geralt," whimpered the bard hoarsely, they weren't inferior in length, but Geralt's shaft was significantly thicker, he throbbed hot against his as he slid his hand up and down. Good. So good.

With lust covered eyes he watched the witcher who bit his lower lip to silence himself. Their gaze met and Jaskier felt like he was looking in two radiant suns, unable to turn away.

"Jaskier please..." The bard understood and increased the speed, pumping with one hand both their painfully hard cocks, while clinging to Geralt's shoulder with the other. Through the thin linen he could feel the rock solid muscles underneath, and damn it felt so much better than he had ever imagined in lonely nights.

"Shit, I ... I'm gonna ..." His voice was trembling and he felt Geralt's huge hand close around his, their fingers entwined around their hot throbbing cocks and he increase the pressure that it was almost too much. "Ahhhh Geralt!" His hips shot up, the stars exploded behind his eyes while he was coming hard into their hands. The witcher followed him just a moment later, his whole body trembling.

They just stood there breathing heavily, enjoying the afterglow bevor reality would hit again. Jaskier's untamable strands stuck to his damp forehead and the otherwise chatty bard was speechless, unable to grasp what had just happened. The humid air between them was still filled with the smell of sweat and sex. Finally, Geralt sighed and stepped back. The wooden planks of the barn, which he had leaned against, showed cracks in several places. With one hand he closed his pants, while he wiped the other down with some straw as best as possible, he had definitely to put his clothes in the laundry tomorrow.

Jaskier also tried to clean himself and, blushing, pulled up the pants, they had slipped down to his ankles. Then they faced each other again, no one really knew what to say or do. The witcher took a deep breath, the alcohol had almost lost its effect.

"Jaskier, I ... I have to apologize to you."

"What? For - " Jaskier vaguely pointed back and forth between them "Or for what happened back then?"

"For everything I threw in your face. I was angry and I'm sorry I hurt you. Please forgive me."  
"Thanks Geralt, that ... that means a lot to me." The words sounded sincere. "But I can't forgive you. At least not at the moment. Give me some time to process all of ... this. But it was nice to see you again," he grinned wryly and for a brief moment he looked like the old Jaskier that Geralt had secretly missed a lot.

"I understand. And I'm glad that you are well and with good company. Although I would know a better travel companion for you," Geralt winked and the bard laughed softly.

"Let me tell you, witcher, jealousy doesn't suit you." He mischievously breathed a kiss on his cheek and then made his way back to the taproom. "Take care, Geralt. And see you soon."


End file.
